Children Say the Darndest Things

I had a most illuminating conversation with my oldest grandson this evening. We talked about how school was going. I asked what he was learning at school.

"Nothing, Grandma. I'm at home right now."

Well, duh! How could I be so foolish? The conversation continued, some of which I could not follow, but the gist of it was about how sad he was that his friend had had to go home. They pretended really good. Aiden was a grouchy troll. etc.

I said I liked to pretend, too.

"What do you pretend, Grandma?"[With his tone of voice rather disbelieving.]

"I am in a play at church about a Bible story [The Ten Virgins] and I pretend that I'm a really really OLD woman."

"But you are old, Grandma. [The intimation was that I was not pretending.] Ouch.

H is for Hallelujah!

I'm hard at work on the Nativity Enactment, so am obviously thinking along those lines...but H is for Hallelujah. I can't think of a more expressive word for that certain feeling of joy and awe and reverence and praise for God all mixed into one.

As a kid, I got to sing in several choirs, including Children's Choir at school which was the Church Choir for St. Anthony's Parish. Back in those days we had High Mass for special occasions. My favorite was, is, and probably always will be Easter. In the Catholic Church [in which I grew up] the year we live is also a "Church Year" in which the events of Christ's life are celebrated and taught. Easter comes after a period of 40 days called Lent in which we usually "gave something up" [like no desserts] in order [among other things] to teach self-control, for Our Lord had to have great control to give up His Life.

The final week leading up to Easter is marked by special events beginning with Palm Sunday. On Good Friday, the Stations of the Cross are followed, [that is we go to each plaque or picture in turn which explains part of the last hours leading up to Christ's death.] The church is then shrouded in purple--every statue, every painting, whatever there is. And there is no music in the Church. The organ is locked and covered. No rehersals are even allowed [not in the church--maybe in siter's classroom, though.]

Then on Easter morning, the first Mass of the day was a High Mass. [The old Latin High Mass involved a lot of singing by priest, altar boys and congregants.] At first there is no music, but then we get to the part where the Risen Christ is taught. The purple shrouds are pulled down, the organ plays, the choir sings great Hallelujahs and the bells peal and peal.

In our little Ward of the LDS Church where I now live, we have something rather unusual for LDS buildings: a bell tower! It came from an older and previous building. So on Easter [and Christmas] we in the Choir sing and the organ [and sometimes piano] play and the bells ring out loud and laud...Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

G is for Grandma's Garden

{I'm up to G...but I don't think anybody read my C, and I thought it a more interesting one.}


G is for Grandma's Garden. I actually have one! It has been many years since that was the case, and this one is tiny. Just 4' square. Brother Schultz brought small tomato seedings to church for everyone [an anual event.] So I took 4. Unfortunately, they stayed in the car for 24 hours...but after a good watering, they perked right up! So it was off to Home Depot. I purchased two pieces of masonite for the bottom as my "garden" as it was going in the backyard, and I didn't want to have to deal wih breaking sod, or weeds and grass coming through. Next I got boards 1" x 2' x 4'. Put together, they made a nice box frame. Then we [Richard & I] poured in the dirt and planting soil. I got this zig-zag wire fence-like piece and put it in across the box. Then I planted my tomatoes zig-zag on either side of the "fence" that was advertised to use for tomatoes. Don't. A strong wind knocks them over. I now have the traditional cones, but putting them in after so much growth is really hard!

Chloe was supposed to come for her final visit on a Sun. A week earlier than originally planned, she [and parents!] came. She and I went out to Grandma's Garden, carefully counting all the Green tomatoes. Not a single one was red yet. Two hours later, my tomato-loving grandaughter wanted to check and see if they were red yet. Nope. But the following week [when they were to have originally come!] they were. So I had to take a picture for Chloe.







I also have green bell peppers, zucchinni, and basil, all harvested here. I've yellow summer squash, but none ready to pick yet, and at least one pumpkin growing nicely for Halloween.

The garden has over run its borders--with the squases sending their vines out everywhere!


As I harvest, I cut everything up and put it into snack-sized ziplocks. Then as I cook, I have everything handy. Of course, I go out and get fresh basil--and will 'til the end of the year when I will pick and dry the rest.

An overabundance at any one time? Canning! I've one jar of tomatoes to put up, and when my husband return from the store with a couple pears and some apple juice, I can do my pear butter and apple-cinnaman jelly at the same time!







Oops--I just deleted my third picture. Oh well, I got two on. Illustrated blogs are hard! Kinda like coaxing plants to produce food in Grandma's Garden!

Three Good Things

It is the end of a long and busy week, so I decided to say my 3 good things, even tho it is not Wed!

1.Good family: Aiden starting kindergarden, Dad finishing his program, Erica getting a new job, Lura finnishing her Master's Program, Richard doing a yeoman's job of helping his friend, Seth's family move etc.

2. New friends: Kim down the street who is a real inspiration as far as neigborliness! And less new friends: spending time helping Sylvia move [see above!]

3. A long wished for and now owned yard swing!!! Picture coming soon!

F Is For Frustration

I am trying. Really, really trying. Very hard. But I am not suceeding. At what? At joining the computer generation. I have been working on my F posting for well over an hour. I had pictures. I messed up. I fixed it, but had to correct the order again. And again. Ad Nauseum! So, for now I Failed in Frustration! Perhaps I was just trying to do too much at once. I'll try again tomorrow--after all Fruits of My Labors can easily turn into Grandma's Garden since G so conveniently follows F. So I'll give myself the
F
and try again tomorrow. Sigh.

E Is For...Elephant

E is always for elephant, so how could I deviate?

A couple, three months ago I went downstairs first thing in the morning, and saw a pink elephant. No, I hadn't been secretly drinking, nor was I imagining things. All right it was a small stuffed pink elephant, but there it was--right in the middle of the floor! How did it get there? Where did it come from? It's not like I have little kids who leave toys scattered about the house, and I assure you that my 16 year old son does not play with pink stuffed animals of any kind, or even any-color stuffed animals! I picked it up and chucked it away into Erica's closet [the "catch-all" place for the storing of all the girls' left behind stuff. And didn't give it another thought.

Until there it was again! Only this time it was only one of several small stuffed animals in a trail reminicent of Hansel's bread crumbs. The route? Erica's closet to the living room. The culprit? Erica's cat, Fleury. As indoor cats, ours are frustrated in their attempts at hunting. Todd goes nuts chasing light and reflections. Fluery wants to deliver up something tangible. It used to be wet washcloths retrieved from shower and tub. But now he had discovered the container of stuffed animals stored in the closet...and decided they must be fair game. Literally. So we find stuffed animal "presents" all over the house now. Sometimes he even gathers them all up one by one at delivers them to Erica's room at night, though I think with her leaving, that will end. [It was nice while it lasted--picking up after himself.] So yes, I see pink elephants.

I have an ongoing project of framing and preparing to hang pictures. One section includes some of my kids childhood artwork and projects from the past. In the meantime, they are sitting on the floor along the hallway wall awaiting hanging [for how can I hang them until everything is gathered?] While Chloe was here, she loved to go "look at pictures " [especially hers and her cousins!] One is a Jungle sand painting. It has a zebra, a giraffe and--you guessed it, an elephant. Coming from her 2 year old mouth it was just so cute sounding. I enjoyed looking at it several times each visit just to hear her say, "elephant." Carefully and correctly.

I hate roller coasters. I hate most carnival rides. I hate most amusement park rides. I suffer badly from motion sickness. so it is not fear as much as nausea--and I had my fill of that during my 100 and 1 pregnancies! [Not to mention my hours logged fly all over the country as a kid.] So I avoid them. [OK truth--I am scared of roller coasters--but not the others] The Ferris Wheel, the Carousel, I'm done. But each and every time the opportunity has presented itself--I will wait in line for as long as it takes. I love riding an elephant! I find it an exhilerating thing to be up so high with such a powerful, yet docile animal underneath me. I'm sure that born in another place and time I would have been an elephant boy. No doubt! I think that elephant rides are the cherry on the top of an otherwise wonderful/ wonder-filled day. Like the Rennaissance Faire in VA. Like a special zoo trip. [or Wild Animal Park.] And always in the company of family--my favorite people. So, yes, E has to be for...Elephant!

D Is For ...Daughters

My daughter, Erica is desperatly trying to teach me. It is hard. Not only am I slow, but somehow, my phone is unco-operative. She is trying to teach me how to e-mail pictures from my phone to myself, and then to post the pictures. It is harder than it sounds because my phone is unco-operative to the max. I can send a pic to her--or just about anyone else, but not to myself. We can't figure out how it is blocked, but it is. So I will try first to put a picture of daughters on my blog: So, here is Daughter #1:

Sariah with son, Aiden in his Russian shirt.

Daughter #2:

Lura at her wedding, and Jesse, too.

And, Daughter #3:

Erica visiting her aunt in San Diego got to hold a lion on her lap!

Not new pictures, but I'm getting the hang of this!

Daughter #1 introduced me to blogging.

Daughter #2 has the patience to walk me through various computer problems I have.

Daughter #3 shows me what to do and then leaves me alone to practice.

Now, if I can only get the phone to e-mail problem solved, I can put up my own pics!

PS--I don't think I've got the linking part down...Daughter #3 was just too fast on that one! But I'll keep trying!

Sorry Tanya--I don't have a decent picture available, and would have to start over...see, we really needed to take pics when you were here!. I'll try again later! I need to show Daughter #5 as well, who is "grand"!

C is for...Cars I Have Known

How do you really know you are getting old? I discovered the true answer. I sat at the Pickerington Fourth of July Parade with friends from Church. I am [age-wise] inbetween the Mom and the Grandma, and friends with both. The 12 year old daughter, Jessie, who sat next to me was in my Sunday School class. The parade was very nice, we cheered our friends and family and called for candy for the little ones, helping them to scramble for it safely. Then came the "antique" cars section. The lead car was a Chevy Impala Super Sport Convertable. I leaned over and told Jessie, "That was my first car."

Mine was a '63 and was my Dad's car first. But he was driving a company car by the time I turned 16, at which point, it became my car--as did chauffering duties [had to have my sister at the Jr High at 6:00am the following morning--in the fog. Ugh!] But I really enjoyed that car. It held to the road, and I could zip up our hill easily. It was great for transporting large numbers in a day when few had seat belts, we just piled kids in and on higher! But I did have seatbelts installed, and required their use as much as possible. A convertable is also good for hauling stuff: like younger brother's drum set, and dorm mates bass viol to lessons in downtown San Diego. Little things would go wrong [by 1971 the speedometer went out, not to worry, the car made a different noise for every 10 miles an hour faster. I did not rush to fix the speedometer--my whole car was a speedometer.] I loved that car. I lost it in an argument involving a lady speeding, a stop sign and an old irrigation flume that the city had been supposed to remove a couple years earlier. The stop sigh cost $10.00, the city said "Thanks for removing the flume. The lady yelled at me, while she received a ticket for speeding. And my car was totaled. So sad.

The Parade continued with a nice vintage "cherry" [that's car talk for mint condition--thanks Tony, for my car education] Mustang. I leaned over to Jessie again, "and that was my second car, only mine was baby blue .

Ah yes, the Mustang era of our family: '65, '66, or '67, I forget which was which. My younger brother and I had our Mustangs at the same time, but mine had the more powerful engine. He became quite adept at changing out engines quickly and stealthily. Our house was up a very steep hill, so leaving the house I rarely realized the switch. Coming home was almost difficult with his engine. I'd walk into the house yelling [and trying not to laugh], "TO-NY!" Busted, and he knew it! Later Mom had a cherry, cherry-red Mustang, so among us, we had the 3 vintage years covered.

The third car in the parade--a Ford Model A. No, I never had that car, but my cousin did, and that was their car--not a show piece, but a vehicle they bought cheaply and drove 'til they could get something newer and better! Next came a couple of cars from the '40's--like one a boyfriend of mine had. That was it for me. I am officially old. The old cars in parades--my cars! Following were the requisite '55 Fords [yes, I remember, and rode in many of those] then a T-Bird with the porthole windows [from the '50's] A college boyfriend drove one of those.

Jessie was pretty impressed that I knew so many of the cars, but she was also impressed by how much older than her Mom I really am--she had never really realized it before! So that's it--I am officially old--betrayed by the cars I have known.

B is For Bumps and Bruises

B is for bumps and bruises. Of which I have waaay too many. My sister used to say that you became an official "kid" once you had band-aides on your knees, and that conversely, you weren't a kid anymore when you didn't have bandaides. If this were the real way to tell, I'd never grow up!

I fall easily, which is why I use a cane outside or for long stretches of walking inside--like at church. I am careful, wearing only flat shoes now. I use a wrist brace on my right [good] hand because I need the extra strengthening from leaning on the cane. I often wear an ankle brace on my right [good] side for similar reasons.

Doesn't matter. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed--like today. I thought I'd get a jump on the day and went quietly into Erica's room to grab the laundry basket, and bashed my hip on the doorknob leaving her room. Ow! S'OK, I went to my closet to collect hangers and whacked my elbow on my dresser. OUCH! Went downstairs [Oof! that was my ankle against the corner wall, which sent me off balance so Ow! that was me bouncing off the opposite wall.] Ah, the landing--time to regain my poise. I manuvered the last part of the starcase with grace. My mother would be proud. Dang! Someone left dishes in the living room. So I smoothly walked acrtoss the room, picked them up and turned and WHACK! fell over the boxes of new shelves for organizing the food storage. I knew I should have put them together yesterday. Now I have one broken bowl, a badly scraped up right leg and a painfully twisted back. So I cleaned everything up--ending with me. Neosporin is the best stuff!

Unfortunately, that was all in the first hour of a day that did not change. I have so many bumps and bruises at so many varying stages...I am white and black and red and yellow and purple and it just goes on! We do not have enough ice-packs for all the spots needed.

And it is catching! Poor Erica just whacked her nose as she took a lid out of the pan cupboard! I sure hope it is not a genetic trait--watch out kids! I'm finished for this day! Let's see if I can make it to my bed without any new bumps or bruises. [I wouldn't bet on it!]

A is For...

I'm going to try to take on te challenge given by Goofyj and go throught the alphabet letter by letter to have different topics for writing. I don't know how well I'll stick to the original directions, but I'll give it a try, tho undoubtedly not daily! So:

A is for...All My Children. Those in theatrical circles may recognize the title of an Arthur Miller play, my favorite. At the end, we realize that everyone in the next generation is also "my" child. It is the way I feel about my kids and their friends...my friends' kids... all the kids at church...or at school where I am involved...

I credit this feeling to my parents, who were always involved in what we did as kids. My mom never went to an opening night or closing night of our plays [our school did 2 weekends regularly, sometimes with additional performances.] Why not? Because she was busy making sandwiches for cast parties held regularly at our house because 1] there was room and 2] we didn't have close enough neighbors to have to worry about noise and 3] because my parents were willing. Once I mentioned this to my Dad and he rather wistfully said, I did my part by earning the money to pay for all those sanwiches." He was feeling a bit left out as I praised my Mom. And he was right. He did pay for not only the volumes of food consumed by hungry teens at many castand/or pool parties for years on end, but he also copied scripts [that we could write on] with the fairly new technology of the xerox machine below cost, and had particularly difficult set pieces made for shows in his cabinet shop at work--thus paying not only for materials, but for the expert carpenter to make it.

I have tried, and I think with some success, to treat those in my path as All My Children as well. And even All My Grandchildren. But it is because I was taught by goodly parents who always made time for All Their Children. Thank you, Mom and Dad, you taught us well.

Brilliant!

Mon. night I was up into the wee hours of the morning awaiting my traveling child's return as her phone was on the blink and she couldn't call out, tho. she could receive calls. So I, of course, stayed up to check on her periodically. No sweat--no need to rise at a specified time on Tues...

When I did get up on Tues. I called the vet to make an appt for later that day for a cat--and noticed FHC written on the calendar! OH, NO!! My shift at the Family History Center is 10-2 on alternating Tuesdays--excepting fifth Tues.

Since Sun was a fifth Sun, I had assumed that Tues was a fifth Tues, but according to the calendar page, it was only the fourth Tues!!!

Panicked, I called out to Richard that he was going to have to take me to the Stake Center NOW!! I quickly threw on my clothes, grabbed my genealogy bag, reading glasses, and a Glucerna bar to eat en route. Swallowed meds and left. Brilliant.

Upon arrival, I learned that no, it was not MY day, but another person who's day it was hadn't come in, so a building person stayed so that the library could be open [two workers are required.] Patrons were there. I figured it all out--Richard had just turned the calendar page, and so did I without really looking, [brilliant] so I was looking at the last Tues in Aug! Which will be my day. Without panic. But I was able to really help a couple people, so I guess I was supposed to be there that afternoon. Brilliant.

Wed was calmer, Thurs quite busy and today I've just been really tired. All week I've gotten in at least 6-8 miles of riding my bike to various destinations, in the growing summer heat. Now I have plenty to do at home, but I'm just too tired! Brilliant, huh?

But dinner is made--I managed that at least, so now I need to drag myself downstairs to eat it. I need one of my grandkids around to perk up some energy in me. My "aura" is really NOT brilliant just now.

Brilliant--such a lovely word! Thank you Brits for its current usage and Harry Potter et al for bringing it to the minds of countess Americans. : )